


Hotel Cybertron

by Chakramancerrr



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Detective, Gen, Lock Picking, Mystery, Rescue Missions, Science Bros, Sickness, Swordfighting, Thriller, breaking stuff, drug references, implied dratchet, injuries, medical scenes, spooky hotel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chakramancerrr/pseuds/Chakramancerrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift and Ratchet take some time off to go exploring. While staying at a hotel in the desert they experience some strange happenings. </p><p>A big thanks to TotallyTrailbreaker and Zypherion for helping me tinker with this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperado

While spending time away from the Lost Light, Ratchet and Drift had taken some time to explore. The pair had been traveling along a desert highway in the mid-day sun. The heat produced wavy lines above the pavement, which caused a mirage.

Everything seemed fine except for the fact that the heat was starting to make Ratchet feel a bit tired. The tough old medic shrugged it off. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it for now. He didn’t wish to worry Drift any.

Drift had noticed that Ratchet had slowed down. He assumed that Ratchet wouldn’t want him to comment on it, so he just slowed down to keep in pace with him. The heat wasn’t easy on him either.

The pair moved along for what seemed like hours, though the landscape didn’t change much. When you have seen one interesting red rock formation the rest start to look less interesting. So much for an exiting adventure.

All the sudden, grey smoke wafted up from Ratchets’ hood making Drift snap to attention. He races in front of Ratchet, shouting at him to stop while spinning around to block him.

Ratchet slams on his brakes to avoid Drift with an annoyed grunt. “What the frag are you doing mech? Has the heat gone to your circuitry?” He asks, clearly irritated.

“Ratchet, you’re smoking!” Drift shouted.

Ratchet paused and sensed that his internal temperature was getting too high. He sighed, knowing that Drift was right. If his engine temperature kept rising it could cause serious damage.

“It’s only light smoke, my coolant is probably low. I’m not catching on fire or anything.” Ratchet explained.

Drift sensed that Ratchet was worried. As much as he wanted to comfort him, he had to solve the heating problem and fast. He turned on his GPS receiver to try and see if there was anything on the map nearby. If they could find a city or a town the could get him some fresh coolant.

“I am able to see what appears to be a hotel on my GPS. Doesn’t look like a fancy place but if we can get you fuel and supplies it’s alright with me.” Drift suggested.

It was a tense few kliks for Drift. He stuck close to Ratchet as they headed around a rock formation and further down the highway. Sure enough there was an outpost which looked like a worn old building in the middle of nowhere.

It appeared to be a two story hotel that must have been something to look at in its prime. Instead it was now a dusty building who’s owner neglected to clean the windows for at least a century or two.

“Well, looks like this is it Ratch.” Drift said, transforming and stretching his shoulders. Ratchet followed suit and followed Drift inside. He staggered a bit since transforming so fast made him feel dizzy.

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get us a room.” Drift put a hand on Ratchets’ shoulder to steady him until he sat in a chair inside the waiting area. Ratchet replied with a steady nod and a stoic expression. 

Drift hurried over to the reception desk and rings the bell with his finger. A tall, slender mech came out of the office and stood behind the large wooden counter. It seems oddly clean in comparison to the outside of the building.

“Can I help you sir?” He asks, seeming to stare into Drift’s optics.

“Yes. I need a room for the night.” Drift replies. “The big guy needs some coolant, can we either order fuel or is there a place to get it near by.”

“I can have some fuel delivered to your room. Which will be 50 shanix for the night. There is a dispenser that has supplies.” The receptionist answered. He had a slight of a drawl to his voice that made Drift think that there was something off. The mech didn’t seem intoxicated so perhaps he was just tired.

“That seems fair.” Drift replied and slapped his payment onto the wooden desk.

The receptionist seemed to glare at him for hitting his desk like that. Drift lifted his servo carefully away from the lacquered wood.

“Sorry, I’m in kind of a hurry. No scratches, see?” Drift gingerly patted the desk where his servo had made contact.

The receptionist seemed to grunt under his breath and hand off a set of brass room keys for Drift. He studied them in his servo for a moment they didn’t seem anything like the plastic key cards he was used to.

“Come on Ratch, lets go get you cooled off.” Drift said, gesturing to the hallway. His concern for the medic was his main priority despite the fact that he was delighted to spend the night with him.

“About time.” Ratchet replied as he walked with Drift down the hallway to find their room. They made no delay about getting inside.

“I will get the air conditioner working, why don’t you go and find the coolant?” Ratchet suggested. He sat on the bed as soon as they entered. He had realized that the puffs of smoke had mostly stopped when he was not putting any strain on his engine.

“Alright. I will be back as soon as I can.” Drift told him.

As Drift began the hunt for the dispenser he noticed how everything in the hotel looked older. Not so much older that it was completely out of date but it gave him a strange feeling. It were as if the place had been frozen in time.

It had an odd overly clean feeling to it, whomever owned the place liked things immaculate. He also realized that he hadn’t seen any other guests yet. Of course a hotel in the middle of a desert wouldn’t be a popular place but it did strike him as odd.

In an alcove he found the dispenser which had an array of supplies. Coolants, spare parts and sweets were set in rows and columns to choose from. Drift selected a jug of coolant and inserted his shantix into the machine. The crank in the dispenser turned and the bottle of coolant plopped into the vending area. He scooped up the bottle and took it with him. On his way out he wondered if he should return trip for sweets when his traveling companion was feeling better.

“Hey Ratch, I got your coolant.” He opens the door to their hotel and pokes his helm inside. There wasn’t a response. “Uh, are you in here?” He asks, thinking that he may have gotten the wrong room.


	2. I can't tell you why

"Hello?" Drift said once more before proceeding. He stepped in further, peering around the corner of the alcove that obscured his view of the berth. He made certain his pede steps were quiet just in case. 

He came to find Ratchet lying on the berth with his servos folded on his chest. The air conditioner humming loudly as it worked to cool the room. It seemed to be operating fine despite the occasional scraping sound. It was in fairly good condition considering it was as old as the rest of the hotel.

"I was just resting my optics." Ratchet said, propping himself up to take the bottle of coolant from Drift's servo. 

"That's a relief." Drift sighed. 

Ratchet opened a port on his chest and began to replenish the fluid level. Drift watched as the green liquid drained out of the bottle and into Ratchet's coolant reservoir. It wasn't long before he set the empty container on the berthside table.

Drift sat down in the armchair and put his pedes up. He patted his subspace and produced a datapad. If they were to settle in for the night reading would occupy him for now. Over the course of their travels he had realized to keep a stock of books on his datapad. When they stopped at a place that didn't interest him it gave him something to do other than practice mediation the whole time.

"I can't seem to get any signal out here." Drift grumbled. "The building doesn't seem to have any connection either."

"That figures." Ratchet grumped.

"Guess I will have to make due with the things I have already downloaded. It's a shame because I was going to send a message to Rodimus to see how he's doing." Drift replied. It had been a while since he had seen any of his friends on the Lost Light and he often liked to check up on them.

"Eh, you'll probably be able to get some signal in the morning." Ratchet said, shrugging. "At least we have some peace and quiet."

"I suppose." Drift replied. He adjusted his datapad in his lap and began to read. Ratchet continued to nap, letting the coolant take effect. He had gotten used to to the sound of the rickety air conditioner and was able to nod off. 

Drift grew bored of his datapad after a few hours of reading. His thoughts wandered as his focus wavered. He thought of the sweets that were in the supply dispenser. Maybe he could sneak off quickly Ratchet wouldn't know he went missing. 

Drift tiptoed down the hallway in search of snacks. On his way down there he saw a mech that looked oddly similar to the receptionist pushing a linens cart. He hadn't noticed it before but his rusty red paint scheme was something Drift couldn't quite place. He shrugged it off, after all red was a common color paint for many functions. Even some of his closest friends sported a similar color.

When he got to the alcove he saw a mech standing in front of the supply dispenser. He stood off to the side, waiting patiently for the other mech to make his selection. Time dragged on and it seemed that this mech was dawdling. Drift tapped his foot as a subtle signal that he wasn't alone and to pick up the pace.

"I know what I want if you don't mind stepping aside." Drift stated. He didn't want to be rude but he also didn't want to stand around while the choosy mech was being slow. The other mech didn't say anything, or even move. At this point Drift was starting to get irritated.

"Hey buddy, are you going to pick something?" Drift asked, giving the mech a tap on his shoulder to get his attention.

The mech turned his helm to look at Drift, a vacant expression on his faceplate. His optics were expressionless but still luminescent. Drift knew exactly where he had seen this mech before.

"Ambulon!?" Drift remarked in shock. "What are you doing here? And are you feeling okay?"

Something about Ambulon didn't seem quite right. While Drift didn't know Ambulon personally he had met him before. He seemed like a hardworking mech. It didn't make sense that he would be spacing out because of a vending machine.

Ambulon made a weak grumbling sound and rubbed his optics. He staggered back and away from Drift, letting him stand in front of the vending machine like he had asked. 

Something was strange about the way Ambulon moved. Drift assumed that he was so out of it because he was low on fuel. He purchased some energon goodies and handed them to Ambulon.

"Here, maybe this will make you feel better?" Drift offered.

Ambulon took the goodies and clumsily opened the package, taking a sweet and slowly putting it into his mouth. It seemed like cycles passed as the treat moved from the bag to the mech's glossa. It occurred to Drift that it was probably something other than lack of fuel that was affecting him.

"Man, you must have been hitting some of that green energon, huh? Better not tell Ratchet." Drift said with a smirk. "Enjoy your treats dude." He patted Ambulon on the shoulder and got a bag of sweets for himself on the way back to his room.

When he returned Ratchet was still recharging his helm resting on a cushion, snoring loudly. Drift didn't want to wake him so he plopped into the armchair. He rested against the back of it until he was able to fall into recharge.

***

Ratchet woke up as the sunlight filtered into the room. He gets up and opens the blinds slightly so that he can see the outside. Drift opened his optics slowly in response to the light. He grumbled and placed a servo over his optics.

"Good morning, sleepy head." Drift murmurs to Ratchet. Despite his grogginess he is glad to see that he is well rested.

"Good morning to you too, Drift." Ratchet replied. "Stay out late?" He asks.

"No, not really." Drift said shrugging. The bag of candies sat on the desk, unopened. "Hey Ratchet, you know Ambulon right? Do you think he would recognize me?"

Ratchet looked puzzled at this seemingly random question. "Hmm, I think that he might. Why do you ask?" 

"No real reason." Drift answered trying to shrug it off.

A loud buzzing sound could be heard from outside. It grew louder and louder until it could be identified as something mechanical. The pair glance at each other and then out the window. Surely there wasn't any vegetation to be trimmed outside in the middle of a desert.

Drift peered through the blinds to see a tall mech with what seemed to be a hedge trimmer. He was standing in front of a shed, just revving the thing as if he were testing it out. He held it out in front of himself watching the teeth rotate around the blade. Once satisfied he stepped back into the tool shed and out of sight.

"A hedge trimmer...with no hedges..." Drift said aloud, trying to make sense of this.

"Maybe that is why there are no hedges. He probably used it to cut them all back for the season. Who knows." Ratchet remarked, shrugging.

"I see that guy everywhere." Drift told Ratchet, looking him in the optics. "He gives me the creeps."

"He's just a dusty old mech." Ratchet said, rolling his optics. 

"I just get the feeling he is watching me." Drift admitted.

"Oh would you stop." Ratchet grumbled. "He probably keeps an eye on his guests."

"But Ratchet-" Drift took a breath to calm his nerves for what he was about to say. "I know this sounds completely crazy but I think there is something wrong going on in this place."

"What do you mean?" Ratchet cocked his helm and squinted, trying to grasp the meaning behind Drift's words. 

"I saw Ambulon last night. He was inebriated or something and he didn't say a word to me even though I spoke directly to him. It was like talking to a fence post." Drift admitted. He didn't want to mention it before, but he needed to come clean at some time or another.

Ratchet took a moment to process this. He had known Ambulon quite a while. If what Drift said was true it didn't make sense. Ambulon wasn't known abuse highgrade or anything else for that matter. Any time he was on call the ward manager was sober and vigilant.

"I don't see such behavior in Ambulon's character, yet I have no reason not to believe you." Ratchet assured Drift. "I just don't see what is so strange about this hotel. My only concern would be for Ambulon."

"He could be hiding out here while abusing highgrade for all we know." Drift said. He remembered his own history with circuit boosters and knew what a struggle that was. Heeding Ratchet's words brought him comfort, however what he saw last night worried him. He had to do the right thing.

"Let's not jump to conclusions." Ratchet stated. "It could have only been a mech that looked like him. What we need to do is search."


	3. Highgrade Sunrise

"So how are we going to go about this?" Drift asks, looking to Ratchet to hear his advice.

"Our first step is to contact the Lost Light. If anyone has seen him it would have to be First Aid." Ratchet explains. "If First Aid can't confirm his whereabouts, then we go to the front desk and ask."

"They can't disclose who stays in a hotel nowadays." Drift said. "I think we might have better luck sneaking a peak at the ledger."

"Mm you are probably right." Ratchet agreed with a simple nod.

Drift turned on his datapad to see if he was able to send a message to First Aid. He grumbled with disappointment when he saw that there was still no signal. Ratchet peered over the top of the datapad and made a grumble of his own.

"Well, it looks like we are going to have to search." Ratchet muttered, making his way out of their room and into the hall. Drift followed quickly and caught up to Ratchet's side, almost invading his personal space.

"I think we had best stick together. You know what happens in horror movies." Drift said.

Ratchet rolled his optics. "If it makes you feel better, I suppose." He said as they continued their path. Ratchet was starting to get annoyed with Drift being so paranoid but, for the sake of getting this over with he didn't argue. The pair of mechs made their way to the front desk, which was thankfully empty.

Drift leaned over the counter reached down and nearly picked up the ledger. Suddenly the receptionist sprung from seemingly out of nowhere. Drift jumped back with surprise, landing swiftly on his pedes despite being frightened. 

"Can I help you gentlemen?" The receptionist asks in his shrill voice. The look in his optics making Drift feel so uneasy he could not speak.

"We were wondering if you could tell us if anyone else had checked in recently. We are looking for a friend." Ratchet stated firmly. 

Drift breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that Ratchet had fielded that question for him. Now if only his spark would stop beating out of his chest he could play off his nervousness without anyone noticing. He swallowed hard and clenched one of his servos.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that." The receptionist spoke. "Company policy." He shrugged.

"Alright then. Thank you for your help." Ratchet said, putting a hand on Drift's shoulder and leading him away from the front desk.

Drift couldn't shake the feeling of the receptionists' optics boring a hole in the back of his helm. Such a feeling sent a shiver though the back of his spinal strut. He knew that the rust colored mech was up to something.

Ratchet stopped in his track and nudged Drift. "If Ambulon is here he would be in there." He pointed to a dark room that had a sign above the door that read "lounge" in green neon letters. 

"Gonna buy me a drink?" He teases, elbowing Ratchet in the side. The medic gave him a stern look. "I mean, yes. That is a logical approach." 

When they made it inside of the bar they noticed that there were many mechs inside. The strange thing about this, was not that mechs seemed to be drinking in the middle of the day but that none of them seemed cheerful. The only time anyone ever had time to drink during the day would be during a broadcasted game of lob. Usually sporting events would bring Cybertronians into a state of cheer, or at least a ruckus of jeers. These mechs made nary a sound.

There were no lights, music or cause for celebration. This place was nothing like Swerve's. The scent of this place filled Drift with a sense of dread. It had musky odor that had a tinge of harsh chemicals. The smell of stale cygar smoke somehow stuck in his olfactory sensors.

"Ratchet." Drift said under his breath. "I think we need to get out of here."

If these mechs were ill, intoxicated or their wills were bent by someone else they were outnumbered. The best course of action was to leave and report their findings to the proper authorities.

"You don't need to tell me twice. " Ratchet concurred, turning to leave. It was tricky to see in the dankness of the bar. As he stepped towards the door he made sure that Drift was at his side. 

"You can check out anytime you like, but you can't ever leave." The bartender cackled. He had materialized in front of the door where he stood, blocking their path. His lithe silhouette making him appear threatening as he stood staring with piercing blue optics and a wide smile.

Drift stepped in front of Ratchet. Every circuit in his body screaming at him to draw his swords and to tear into the bartender. No. He mustn't do such a thing. He had learned since the incident at Delphi when he had attacked a contagious mech. He gritted his denta remembering that regret. Drift wouldn't easily forgive himself if he ever made that mistake again. He kept his servos at his sides and off of his weapons.

"Yield to us, or I shall force you out of the way." Drift spoke, making a wide stance.

The bartender shut his optics and started to cackle. The sound his voice made would make prickles on the back of ones' neck and shivers through their spinal strut. Drift saw this as his opportunity to strike. He lunged forward, shoulder out intent on ramming the bartender in the chest and bowling him over. He prepared to make contact when he realized that instead of tackling, he was falling.

Ratchet had gone after him, reaching out to grab Drift before he fell over. As he latches on to Drift's frame he realizes he miscalculated Drift's momentum. Both mechs are sent tumbling back into the hotel's foyer. Once they got tho their feet they made no delay in rushing down the hall and away from the bar.

"What the frag was that?" Drift said, optics wide. He turns to Ratchet with servos clenched, hoping for an explanation.

"That. Was a hologram." Ratchet stated. It had to be a hologram, what else could it be right? Ghosts were a load of malarchy any way. The chief medical officer had better things to do than waste his time with urban legends.

"But why?" Drift pondered, stiffening his brow.

"Anything to throw us off or scare us. Maybe to keep us- or the bots in that bar from leaving." Ratchet theorized. "In their altered state they may not try to fight back the way that you did." 

"True." Drift agreed, nodding.

"Right now we need to focus on finding Ambulon and getting the frag out of here." Ratchet stated firmly. As much as he wanted to leave this place he was not one to leave a soul behind, let alone a fellow medic.

Drift was about to suggest something when Ratchet put a digit upon his lip plates to silence him. Medical coding was known to make ones' hearing more acute. Drift watched Ratchet in wait of what his audio sensors were picking up. If anything spooky were creeping around the hotel, his audio sensors were sure to pick it up.

Drift heard it too. A sound like a metallic rattling followed by what sounded like blows of metal on metal. This struggle went on for a few moments, neither mech spoke as they listened. Finally the struggle ended with the slam of a door.


	4. New kid in town

Ratchet and Drift were faced with a choice. Head up the stairwell and investigate the struggle, or make a break for it. Although neither of them said it out loud the both of them knew what needed to be done.

Drift grimaced, looking to Ratchet. He silently hoped that there wouldn't be a horde of mechs up there like there were in the bar. Ratchet patted one of Drift's shoulder pauldrons.

"S'alright if you are nervous, kid." Ratchet told him. "You're a brave mech but this has been a very strange series of events."

Without warning, the stairwell door swung open. Both mechs flinched, Ratchet more so than Drift whom nearly drew his swords. He did not relax his grip on their handles until he saw who had come down from the stairwell.

"Nightbeat!?" Drift uttered in disbelief.

"Yep." Nightbeat replied. "I had noticed your comm had attempted to make contact with the mainframe on the Lost Light. After Rodimus told me he was concerned I looked into it. I saw our messages to you had been jammed. When you and Ratchet hadn't replied I had to solve the case. Something, clearly wasn't right."

"You have that right." Ratchet spoke, arms folded across his chest. "Please tell me you know something about this hotel."

"Ahh, that is another mystery." Nightbeat snapped his digits.

"Wait, how did you trace the signal here if there was no signal?" Drift asked, looking skeptical.

"Rodimus told me that you did send him a message not long ago. With his permission I was able to trace the coordinates and time that message was sent. It lead me to the middle of the desert, however I was able to track the both of you fairly easily." Nightbeat explains. "I followed two distinct patterns of treads in the sand and they lead me here."

"That is all well and good, but we have reason to believe Ambulon may be here against his will." Ratchet stated. His arms remained folded against his chest. His adamant stance seemed to anchor him in place.

"And just before you showed up we heard a disturbance." Drift told the detective with a harrowed look.

"Please tell me what happened. I want every detail." Nightbeat replied, keen on understanding what had transpired. This reconnaissance mission was quickly becoming a rescue mystery.

Drift and Ratchet told Detective Nightbeat everything that had gone on. They spared no detail. No matter how minute anything could be a vital clue. They spoke of their encounters with Ambulon and the receptionist that seemed to be everywhere. 

"It seems to me that whomever owns this place is trying to hide something." Nightbeat determined.

"If they are trying to hide Ambulon I think we have to look upstairs." Ratchet stated. Though he knew that no one wanted that answer. The curiosity was killing him, more so it was the camaraderie he felt for his fellow medic.

Drift nodded and finally drew his swords. "I will go up the stairs with Nightbeat. Ratchet please stay behind. You have a better chance of patching us up rather than the other way around."

"I will be here if you need me." Ratchet nodded firmly in agreement.

"If there is no saving us, promise me you will get yourself out." Drift spoke looking into the medic's optics.

"You have my word." Ratchet replied, though he wasn't sure if he believed he could leave the others.

Nightbeat opened the door to the stairwell as Drift had his servos full. Drift went first, leading the other mech up the steps. He stayed in front of Nightbeat, ready to protect him against whatever they would find at the top of the stairs.

"I thought you were only protective of your medic." Nightbeat commented.

"Shhh!" Drift paused in his tracks. 

"I wasn't trying to imply-" Nightbeat held his servos up defensively. He stopped speaking when he heard it too. 

Something or someone was shuffling down the hallway beyond the stairwell. Luckily the mechs could avoid being seen by hiding behind the second level stairwell door. So long as they avoided the narrow window pane they were able to press their audials to the wood and listen.

"I thought I told you to stay put. But you never listen." A voice scolded, "This should do the trick." There was the rattling sound followed by a metallic sounding click. Footsteps. Then came the sound of the door sliding shut and then more footsteps.

Drift swallowed, hearing the footsteps growing closer. His grip tightened on the handles of his swords. He stepped back from the door giving himself enough room to swing. Nightbeat stood aside to where he would be out of the blade's path if Drift needed to strike.

Just then a flicker of doubt entered Drift's mind. What if those footsteps were simply a hotel guest. He lowered his blades to his sides. He still held them tight just in case, though it would take more than a hairpin trigger to strike.

As the footsteps grew closer they paused before turning and headed off down a different corridor. The two mechs breathed a sigh of relief. They remained still until long after they were sure that whomever was there had gone.

"Ready?" Drift spoke. Nightbeat nodded silently, his serious expression was exaggerated by his visor. 

Nightbeat opened the door slowly for Drift. He stepped out into the hall after him. This floor looked the same as the one beneath it. Same decor and layout but just slightly different colors to remind the staff and their guests which floor they were on at the present moment.

"It sounded like it was coming from that door." Drift said in a hushed voice. He only meant for Nightbeat to hear. Drift hoped he had a better solution than kicking the door down. Nightbeat decided that the simplest approach was probably the best. He simply strode over and rapped on the door. Drift watched, seeming shocked by this blunt method. There was no response at the door so Nightbeat rapped again. This time he made firmer contact with his knuckles. When no one answered he tried the handle. It turned but did not open.

"What now?" Drift whispered.

"We pick the lock." Nightbeat stated firmly. "Me must know what lies beyond this door."

"I don't know how to pick a lock, just how to kick a door down." Drift admitted.

"Hmm, I just need something with a point on it." Nightbeat said, looking around.

Drift's optics averted to one of his swords. 'No.' He thought. It would have to be something a lot smaller, like a needle that could fit into the lock. As he tried to think of something he saw a decorative candle that was affixed to the wall.

Nightbeat cocked his helm, wondering what Drift had been thinking. As soon as he saw Drift sheath his swords and the angle of his gaze he understood exactly what he was planning to do. For Ambulon's sake he hoped that it would work.

Drift walked over and tore the sconce off the wall. He removed the candle and sure enough there was a metal rod sticking out of the candle rest.  
"Will this work?" Drift asked, handing the sconce to Nightbeat.

"One way to answer that question." Nightbeat said as he began to break the metal point off the candle plate. He worked it back and forth until the metal fatigued and he had a toothpick sized piece of metal to use as a pry bar.

He inserted it into the lock and began to pick. He offline his optics to intensify his other senses to feel for the pins as he raked. With steady precision he maintained just the right amount of tension to work the tumblers. His audials picked up the sounds of them sliding into place with a click.

"That should do it." Nightbeat stated, turning the handle slowly he gave the base of the candle holder a sharp tap to jostle the pins into place. Sure enough the bolt withdrew and the door opened. 

Drift peered into the dimly lit room, he could see the silhouette of Ambulon slumped against the far wall. He seemed to be shackled to the floor, large round bonds were tight around his ankles. He didn't seem fit to move even if he wished to protest being held here.

"Do you think you can use that candle prong to get him free?" Drift asked, looking to the detective.

"It is worth a try." Nightbeat said.


	5. Life in the Fast Lane

After a few moments of tinkering, the detective was able to work around the shackles. It was quite the puzzle, similar to the door but each lock is different. It was the same method as before just with a different amount of tension.

Drift sheathed his swords then carefully scooped up Ambulon. Then put him over his shoulders. He used his servos to hold him tight so that he wouldn't slide. It brought him comfort in the least that he could hear Ambulon was still venting.

"We must get him out of here quickly. We don't have all cycle." Nightbeat commented.

Drift nodded in agreement and the pair made their way back downstairs to where Ratchet had been waiting for them. He had his arms drawn across his chest and his frame looked rigid with worry. 

"We have Ambulon, now we can go." Drift said, walking quickly. It did not take any convincing for the others to follow. They made haste, or at least as much haste as one could make while Drift was carrying Ambulon.

"What took you so long?" Ratchet asked. He was taken aback when he saw Ambulon resting in Drift's arms. 

"He's still venting. We need to get out of here." Drift insisted.

Without another word he followed the others hoping to make an exit. They dashed down the corridor to and to the lobby to get out the main entrance. As they got closer they saw the silhouette of a figure in front of the glass doors. 

The Receptionist was standing in front of the door with his arms folded. His pale blue optics glared at Drift, highlighted against his darkened silhouette. The sun shone behind him so that it eclipsed his face.

"Get the frag out of the way!" Drift's grip tightened on Ambulon as he snarled at the mech.

"I will if you give him back to me." The Receptionist replied, holding his servos out to receive.

"Take him and go." Drift lifted Ambulon up higher, handing him off to Ratchet.

Ratchet collects Ambulon, holding him secure to his frame. It wasn't often that he had to carry another medic. It felt odd to be caring for someone that was usually working along side him.

He did not dwell on these thoughts long as he had a job to do. He had to take Ambulon out of range of the hotel's transmission jamming system and get the Lost Light to send a groundbridge. Time was of the essence. The sooner they could treat Ambulon the better.

Drift drew his swords, his optics fixed on the mech that clearly was not budging. He did not hesitate to lunge directly at the mech. As he had hoped, the receptionist side stepped the attack. The doors were clear for Ratchet to run through.

Ratchet took no chances and delivered a forceful kick to the metal frame where the doors met to break the lock. The doors exploded open, glass shattered and went flying in every direction. Fragments were clinking and bouncing along the lobby floor.

With that to distract everyone, Ratchet transformed into his ambulance mode. He used his subspace to carefully load Ambulon into his patient compartment without harming him. As soon as he was secure Ratchet sped off into the desert, kicking up a cyclone of dust.

While Drift had his optics on Ratchet, the Receptionist snuck up on him from behind wielding a hedge trimmer. He revved it's motor, startling Drift into twitching suddenly.

As Drift turned he could see that the mech was not holding the hedge trimmer but that it was in place of his servo. He had definitely seen this before... but where? He didn't have time to think as the garden implement was being swung toward his helm. He ducked out of instinct and struck back using the pommel of one of his swords to knock back his foe.

Rising to his regular stance he made a sudden realization. The only bot he had seen use a saw for a servo with that sort of lanky build was someone he had seen at Delphi. It made sense now as to why he had targeted Ambulon.

"I know who you are, Pharma. Your new paint job isn't fooling me." Drift stated. His expression was stern but not cruel. His decision to fight was not on impulse but, because he knew that Pharma would follow Ratchet. This would prevent Ambulon from getting help.

Drift had to step carefully now. While glass would not cut his armor nor his pedes, it was slick like walking on loose gravel. It would not harm a cybertronian but if it caused him to lose his footing it may cost him the fight, or worse.

"It took you _that_ long to figure it out? What was your first clue?" Pharma spat back.

"It did not take much to figure out that you were up to no good." Drift took a mighty swing at Pharma which he sidestepped once more. His katana pierced the drywall behind where Pharma had stood. Drift grunted with frustration as he pulled the blade free.

***

Ratchet had traveled several kliks in ambulance mode. He slowed down just enough to where he could focus on comming the Lost Light. It wasn't that he couldn't speed, it was that he knew he was better off not jostling the patient.

_// This is Chief Medical Officer Ratchet requesting a groundbridge near my current location, I am transporting a patient to the medbay. Do you copy? //_

Ratchet paused, listening and hoping for a reply. In any other situation his thoughts would have wandered in concern for Drift, but in the heat of an emergency he remained calm. Whenever an emergency happened something in Ratchet changed. He felt a strange sense of calm and focus that seemed to click. It wasn't that he did not have any anxiety, it was that logically he knew it was better to act than panic. He would be no help to anyone if he reacted emotionally. He had to focus on the task at hand and do the right thing.

_// Request accepted. Proceed to the groundbridge that is half a klik North from your location. //_

A familiar voice answered his message. A voice belonging to none other than First Aid, another medic from the Lost Light's medical bay. Thankfully there was a groundbridge location near the medical bay for such emergencies.

The groundbridge's light could be seen in the distance. It grew larger in size as Ratchet approached it. Reducing his speed with expert precision as he got closer still. He was barely rolling as he made it through the portal so that he was still when he appeared inside the medbay.

"He's in my patient compartment. Before it comes as a surprise he is one of our own." Ratchet stated.

First Aid had been waiting for him when he arrived. He had a medical berth ready to accept the patient. When Ratchet deployed the patient carrier First Aid was momentarily shocked to see Ambulon lying unconscious. 

First Aid wheeled him onto the medical berth and into the main part of the medical bay. Ratchet transformed and followed First Aid quickly. Along the way he explained where he and Drift had traveled, what had transpired at the strange hotel. Then he relayed what Ambulon's symptoms were.

"The first thing we need to do is run some tests." Ratchet spoke. "I would assume he is low on energon and may have some physical trauma."

"I will get the scanner." First Aid concurred. 

***

Drift realized he did not have time to pry the sword free. He ducked out of the way of the hedge trimmers that were being swung in his direction, abandoning one of his swords. From his crouched position he sweeps a leg under Pharma, causing him to topple over.

Drift did not say a word as he approached his opponent, single sword in his servo. He raised it and prepared to launch forwards. Before he was able to make contact, Pharma transformed into his altmode. Drift's blade made an awful screeching sound as it scraped against his armor.

The blow had left a long silver indent along the underside of the jet. The force of movement had prevented the blade from biting down and causing serious damage. Pharma flew slightly unsteady before leveling out. 

Drift turned on his heel and gave chase. Once sword in his servo as he did not have time to gather the other. He knew he could not let Pharma out of his sights. He was heading outside through the broken doors.

Drift had to slow down to avoid slipping on the pellets of broken glass. They crunched like hardened snow under his pedes and caused him to skid a little. It wasn't painful, but he may have to repaint the bottoms of his feet. Meanwhile, Pharma had made it to the hotel's courtyard and was beginning to open the shed.


	6. Chapter 6

Most everything had been quiet in the medbay. The patients were resting, and Ratchet was doing his rounds. Making sure each patient was fed and cared for wasn't always easy, but he managed to treat even the most fussy patients. 

A tone notified Ratchet that a patient pushed the alert button. Ratchet wandered over to see what the problem was. As he paced over he saw Ambulon sitting up in his berth, a tense look on his faceplate. His servos tightly gripped the rails of the medical berth.

"Everything alright in here?" Ratchet asked, leaning in to have a look from the hallway.

"I am feeling very overheated." Ambulon complained. His shoulders were slouched, his posture leaning forwards as his weakened frame tried to support him.

"You should be fine. The scanner didn't pick up anything serious when you came in." Ratchet reminded him. It wasn't like the ward manager to complain about much of anything. Ratchet staggered into the room to turn on the fan for him.

"No, no. Not like that. I feel like I am getting very ill." Ambulon stated. 

Ratchet put his servo on the mech's forehelm. As he had predicted Ambulon was indeed overheating. It was slight, but Ratchet could feel the warmth radiating from Ambulon's forehelm. When he used the scanner on him it confirmed what his palm had felt.

"You are warm but, it isn't beyond normal ranges. A little coolant and you can go back to resting." Ratchet assured the mech. He reached in to the top cabinet to search for a container of coolant for Ambulon. Once he found what he needed he returned to Ambulon's berthside.

Ratchet gave him the container of coolant to drink. Even with Ambulon being ill he was at least grateful that he was conscious and able to speak. He had questions for the mech, but that could wait. He decided it would be best for him to finish his coolant first.

Ambulon took the container and began to sip. He needed remain sitting up and tilt his helm back to get every drop of coolant he needed. Upon doing this Ratchet noticed two strange holes on the side of Ambulon's neck. Ratchet did not understand how he could have missed seeing them when he examined Ambulon earlier. 

"How did you get those marks?" Ratchet asked.

Ambulon paused mid sip. He looks puzzled by the question. "What marks?" 

"The marks on your neck." Ratchet stated, gesturing to the affected area.

Ambulon ran his digits over his neck. The wounds felt hot and tender to his touch. Something about them made him feel uneasy. 

"I honestly have no memory of getting them." Ambulon admitted with a quiver in his voice.

"Hmm." Ratchet furrowed his brow. He had tucked his servo under his chin as he analyzed the situation. "What were you doing at a hotel in the middle of nowhere?" 

Ambulon sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "All I remember from the hotel is from after Drift carried me down the stairs. The rest is fuzzy, but I do remember him handing me off to you."

"Perhaps you will be able to remember more as you recover. But for now I am going to take a sample just in case it is a venomous bite. That fever could be from an infection." Ratchet noted. He was well aware that when a witness was pushed, they could sometimes recall false events. This was especially prevalent in those whom had experienced traumatic events.

Ratchet got a swab from a drawer and a slide. He stepped over to Ambulon and began to dab at the wound sites. Ambulon grimaced when the cotton swab made contact. Ratchet tried to use a lighter touch as he continued to dab. As soon as he felt he had enough material on the swab he swiped it on the glass slide. 

"That should do. I am going to dress your wound now." Ratchet told him.

He took some ointment on a clean swab and applied it to the wounds. He then padded them with gause and secured it to the side of Ambulon's neck. Just in case Ambulon bumped into something or the wound got itchy it would prevent him from making it worse. Once the test results would come in Ratchet would know exactly how to treat him.

"Is there anything else?" Ratchet asks. He takes a thin sheet and lays it across Ambulon's lap in case the coolant gave him a chill. This way he could pull it over himself if needed. He could also kick it to the foot of the berth if his overheating worsened.

"No, but would you come and check on me now and then?" Ambulon asks. He averts his gaze as not to not seem imposing.

"Alright. Just get some rest." Ratchet told him, dimming the light to encourage Ambulon to recharge some.

***

Pharma bolted inside the doors of the shed. Drift continued to give chase as his opponent would have nowhere to hide. He prepared himself to strike, sword in hand. When he got within reach Pharma eluded him once again. He had seemed to drop down and disappear from sight.

As Drift approached the shed he realized he was standing at the mouth of an underground tunnel. He nearly lost his balance for a moment but was able to stop himself from leaning too far forwards. Once balanced he was able to hop down into the tunnel the way that Pharma had. He landed firmly on his pedes, ready for whatever was waiting for him.

Drift noticed that whomever dug this tunnel took their time to plan it out. The walls of the tunnel were flush, thick wooden beams had been evenly spaced to keep everything stable. It reminded him of of a mine shaft with lights that had been attached to the beams. 

Fortunately for him, this was a short tunnel and not a winding labyrinth. The path went on for a few hundred yards and lead to a single wooden door. If Pharma had hidden himself beyond it, he would have nowhere to run. Of course what was beyond that door may not be a dead end. It could very well be the winding labyrinth that Drift had dreaded. Hopefully it was not a trap.

Drift readied himself to open the door and face Pharma. Bouncing his frame at the knee like a boxer before stepping in the ring to keep his body from tensing too much. He steeled his nerves. He was expecting Pharma to lash out at him the moment the door swung open.

After taking a deep vent he opens the door with his opposite hand, sword at the ready. Instead of seeing Pharma's wicked grin he is now standing in front of what seems to be an altar. There is a tome that is open on a stand and several candles. The markings in the book are nothing like any runes or sigils Drift had ever seen before. Despite his spiritual studies he can't seem to place them. In a moment's time it dawns on Drift that these are not spiritual markings, but schematics.

Perhaps if he can get this book back to someone who can interpret it, it could hold the key to understanding what is happening at this hotel. He lifted the book off of it's stand and folded the page to mark it. Since it was not a magical artifact he felt no guilt out of creasing the page. Just then he had the feeling that he was being watched. He put the book into his subspace and backed out of the room with the altar.

As he made his way out of the tunnel he expected to be ambushed. There had to be a trapdoor or some kind of hiding place as he had not run into Pharma. It would be a waste of time to look for his hiding spot now. The best thing to do would be to make his exit. He jogged to the exit of the corridor and then climbed up and out of the mineshaft shed.

 _'Still no sign of Pharma'_ Drift thought to himself. His first instinct was to transform and speed off into the desert where the jammers could not stop him from requesting a groundbridge. He was about to do so when he remembered that Nightbeat was still in the lobby.

Drift ran as fast as he could back into the rear entrance of the hotel. He bounded down the hallway to the front desk area. Nightbeat was nowhere to be seen. Drift started to panic and look for signs of a struggle.

When he found nothing besides the damage from his own battle he hoped that Nightbeat did not decide to go off exploring without telling him. Nightbeat was a smart mech but his curiosity could be his undoing. He had visions of Nighbeat going off to search for clues and getting overpowered by Pharma. Drift knew that Nightbeat often carried a small pistol with him, but he would be no match for Pharma.

Suddenly the trash can scuttled over to him. Drift jumped back and landed steady on his pedes. A pair of black servos lifted the lid from the trash container and Nightbeat's helm popped out of the bin.

"It's only me." He said with a grin. 

Drift slapped his own forehelm with his palm. Pharma would never choose such a goofy hiding spot. Nightbeat was the only one here that would do such a thing.

"I have a very important clue. We have to get out of here and get it back to the Lost Light." Drift explained.

"Can I see?" Nightbeat asked, cocking his helm slightly.

"You can see it later." Drift replied.

"But what if I want to see it now?" Nightbeat folded his arms and rested them on the rim of the trash bin.

"There isn't enough time. You can see it when we get back to the Lost Light." Drift told him. He wanted to get out of this place as fast as possible but there was no convincing the curious mech. The detective could be stubborn when he wanted to be. 

"I'm not coming out of this bin until you show me." Nightbeat grumbled.

"Then I guess you will be staying in the bin for a long time." Drift replied. His logic was that if he walked away that Nightbeat would follow him to the Lost Light.  
As he turned to make a break for it he saw Pharma standing in the waiting area holding Drift's other sword. The smug look on his faceplate and the gleam in his optics struck a chord in the swordsmech. 

"Looking for this?" Pharma cackled, holding up the blade. 

Drift did not justify that question with an answer. Instead he turned to Nightbeat, whom clumsily climbed out of the bin nearly tipping it over in the process. 

"Take this to Ratchet and the others, don't dawdle." Drift stated, reaching into his subspace and handing off the large tome to Nightbeat. 

"I will." Nightbeat agreed. The seriousness in Drift's expression was rather sobering. It put into perspective that it was more important to deliver the book than to analyze it right now. He would have all the time he needed to do so when he got back to the ship.

Placing the book in his subspace he took a last look at Drift and gave him a nod before leaping to avoid the glass. Once he made it to the ground in front of the hotel he transformed and sped off without looking back.


	7. Chapter 7

"Alright, that should do." Ratchet spoke. He took the sample of energon in the syringe and put it on Ambulon's tray table. He closes up the port to Ambulon's energon line and dabs off his forearm. To Ratchet's surprise Ambulon flinches when he does this. Usually Ambulon was one of the easier patients, even volunteering to be used for training demonstrations. 

"I guess my servos were a little cold. I'm sorry Ambulon." Ratchet states.

Suddenly Ambulon snaps up to a sitting pose. It were as if the upper half of his torso sprung from the berth while his legs stayed put. He lunges forwards, mouth agape. Ratchet could see two large, dripping fangs where his denta used to be. In one swift motion ratchet grabs the sample syringe and ducks backward to narrowly avoiding being bitten.

"The frag has gotten into you!?" Ratchet grunts. He knows he has to do something before Ambulon gets up. Ratchet is more than confident in his ability to fight the mech. However he fears not only getting bitten, but harming Ambulon. Even if he looks different he could still be in there, right?

"Scrap, scrap, scrap!" First aid muttered as he dashes into the room with a pair of stasis cuffs. The medical bay often kept restraints for patients that were a danger to themselves or others. First Aid never thought he would have to use them on Ambulon.

Ratchet wisely put the sample in his subspace before helping First Aid to take down the unruly patient. He leaps into action putting an arm around Ambulon's torso, effectively putting him in a submission hold. While it looks brutal Ambulon won't hurt himself so long as he doesn't struggle.

"Aid, hurry up and get his servos cuffed!" Ratchet shouts.

"I'm trying, can't you hold him down? He's all wiggly!" First Aid complains as Ambulon starts to thrash. "Now would be the part where I would call Ambulon to help but he is already busy doing the opposite."

"We get one servo, then the other." Ratchet instructs. He tries his best with the arm that is not applying the hold to grab one of Ambulon's servos and hold it still. It takes a few tries but once he is able to finally get a grip First aid slides one side of the cuffs on. 

"Ok, now the other." Ratchet said. "You grab his other servo."

First Aid did as he was told, using both of his servos to grip and hold Ambulon's arm and bring it over to the servo Ratchet had in his grip. All the while Ambulon's legs were kicking and swinging in every direction. If it weren't for Ratchet's hold Ambulon would probably have pounded some dents into both of them by now.

"Frag!" 

Just then Ambulon uses all of his might and breaks out of First Aid's grip. Ratchet holds fast to keep Ambulon in the headlock but his arms go free again. This time one of his servos knocks the tray table against the wall.

"Dammit, I needed that." Ratchet grumbles as he sees the tray smash against the wall.

"Maybe he will tire out?" First Aid suggests hopefully.

Ratchet pulls a thick blanket from one of the cabinets and throws it over the flailing mech. The padding of the blanket not only keeps Ambulon from hurting himself, it also works to contain Ambulon's limbs despite his struggling.

"Strap him down. Quickly!" Ratchet orders as he does his best to keep Ambulon secured to the berth.

Without a word First Aid leaps into action, lashing Ambulon to the berth with some durable cloth straps. Once he is no longer able to thrash he stops moving so much. As First Aid had predicted he seems to have worn himself out.

First Aid looks at Ambulon and sighs with a downcast look upon his faceplate. He feels a light tap on his shoulder. Turning, he sees Ratchet standing beside him.  
"You did good. We have to keep working and I think I know just who can help us." Ratchet tells him.

***

Back at the medical bay laboratory Ratchet had called Perceptor to help analyze some samples he had taken from Ambulon. The two mechs looked over the slides. Their areas of expertise would be a perfect match to determine what was affecting Ambulon.

They had set up a table on which to work. Several slides and datapads had been spread out before them in an orderly fashion. Perceptor seemed to be gazing into one of the slides, an look of intense focus upon his face.

"It seems to me that it is some sort of bloodborne pathogen." Perceptor notes, pointing to one of the slides.

"Then how do you explain the fangs?" Ratchet inquires in a grumbling tone as he looks up from one of the datapads.

"They are most likely a modification." Perceptor muses. "Perhaps Pharma installed them so that Ambulon would pass the infection to other mechs through biting them."

"There was a bar full of mechs in an altered state. I wonder if Ambulon had bitten them." Ratchet ponders with a furrowed brow. He tries not to worry about Nightbeat and Drift. The best thing he can do right now is to find a way to cure this odd pathogen.

"That would be important to note. If that is the case we may need a larger quantity of the antidote I am planning to develop." Perceptor stated as he began scratching formulas onto a blank datapad.

"We are going to need an army to administer it. Maybe you could make some sort of dart launcher." Ratchet suggests.

"Indeed." Perceptor said, rubbing his chinplate with his thumb and forefinger.

There was a rapping at the door. Perceptor did not seem to notice, while Ratchet rose to check the door. Nightbeat had arrived with the tome in his servos.

"Hey guys. I found something that might answer some questions." Nightbeat spoke proudly. His faceplate beaming with pride like a turbofox that had retrieved something.

Perceptor looks up from his work to see what the detective had brought. Once the book caught his optic his attention seemed to shift to it. It was an odd sort of thing, but as Perceptor was able to piece together the story it seemed like something that may offer valuable clues.

"Go ahead and bring it here. I wish to take a look at what you have brought us." He said, waiving Nightbeat over to their workspace.

Nightbeat strode over to the table and set the tome down away from the scientific equipment. He opens it to the first page so that Perceptor and Ratchet can see what is written inside. The lettering and schematics were unlike those Nightbeat had seen before.

"Hmm." Perceptor mused as he looked over the pages. "This seems to be some kind of coding. Whatever is in this book is not something that the author wanted us to understand. There must be some kind of encryption."

"It's weird they didn't use a datapad, don'tcha think?" Nightbeat asks.

"They probably didn't want their information to be hacked." Ratchet notes.

"I will have to research a translation while you work on the antidote." Perceptor said. "I believe this tome merely tells us how the pathogen was created, I would rather rely on hard science first. Nightbeat and I can solve the case later, but saving those mechs with an antidote will come first."

"I think the 'case' is that Pharma has gone mad and has decided to go from harvesting Tcogs to infecting mechs so he can bend them to his will." Ratchet remarks.

"Either way, we will resolve this." Perceptor spoke. "I think I am on to a design to administer your antidote." He holds up the datapad he had been using earlier. On the screen was a design that looked like a crossbow, but instead of arrows it was capable of shooting darts which each contained a vial of antidote.

"That would be helpful for the more stubborn patients, especially the ones who flail." Ratchet says with a chuckle. "Now let's get to work."


End file.
